Joy Ride
by LaylaBinx
Summary: AKA: Why Knives And Speeding Vans Are Always A Crappy Combo. Tag to Head Case :D No slash, unless you want to read it that way! Just hurt/comfort fluff :p


**Hello my darlings! Okay, so this is a tag to the last shot in Head Case. I had so many awesome readers request a longer story about that one shot and my muse loved the idea and had a damn field day with it lol! ^.- Also, I shameless cut and paste the last part of the story so it tied into Head Case so if it looks familiar, that's why =p Hope you guys like it! :D**

**I own nothing, I'm just playing ^.-**

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Jensen pressed his back against the side of the van, tilting his head just enough to where he could see the back doors were still open. He could hear gunfire a couple yards away, the distant pops and pings of bullets being fired from their chambers and clattering into the surrounding areas. He knew Clay and Aisha were on the front side of the building, taking care of the armed guards there and Cougar was on a nearby roof, picking off the ones that were coming up from the sides. Pooch was probably mixed in with the others by now, covering them as well from his position. That left Jensen to sneak around the back and get to the van where they kept the money and equipment.

They'd located one of the many companies Max had his hands into and managed to figure out that said company was making a rather large transfer that afternoon to an undisclosed location. Max knew that Clay and his team were on to him so he never kept his money or his personal information in one place for very long. The van was fully equipped with a various arrangement of computers and files, all of which kept the mad man's private accounts on the move at any given time. Simply put, the van was little more than a bank account on wheels. There were others out there, hundreds probably, but all they were concerned with right now was getting into this one and getting as much information as they could.

Jensen took a steadying breath and slipped around the corner of the van, gun ready in his hands as he approached the open doors. No one was inside, apparently they were all a little more concerned with the people shooting at them from the front. It made his job that much easier. Stepping into the back, Jensen pulled out a flash drive from his pocket and inserted it into the computer closest to him, waiting anxiously as the files copied over into the tiny drive. There were three other computers and he needed to copy the files from each of them. He knew the others were buying him time by keeping the guards busy but he wasn't sure how much time that was exactly.

The files finished copying from the first computer and he moved on to the next one, carefully stepping over the loaded boxes and bags lining the van's floor. They were filled with bundles of cash and paper files, both of which Jensen figured he could burn without a second thought. The second computer was half way through copying the files when he heard the driver's side door open and someone slide in.

Jensen froze, another man climbing into the passenger seat. Neither of them had seen him yet and he ducked behind the seat, coaxing the computer silently as he waited. He just needed to finish before the van pulled away and he'd be-

Shit out of luck. The van lurched as the engine was kicked on and then two more men appeared around the corner swinging into the back and closing the door behind them. "Drive!" One of them shouted, apparently oblivious the computer tech still crouched behind the driver's seat. The other man beside him wasn't nearly as oblivious because when he saw Jensen, his eyes widened and his face paled. "Who the hell-" He didn't get a chance to finish before Jensen fired, catching him right in the chest and sending him sprawling. His body hit the back door of the van heaily and they swung open, dumping him and at least two of the bags on the floor out onto the dusty pavement as the van picked up speed.

The other man reacted a bit more quickly than the first and lunged, catching Jensen off guard and jerking him forward by the muzzle of his gun. The younger man lost his balance, tripping over another bag in the middle of the floor and going down heavily on one knee. The man above him pulled again, a bit more sharply this time, and the gun was jerked from his grasp, bouncing against the floor and landing with a loud crack outside.

_Shit, that was my favorite gun too, _Jensen thought, dodging a punch from his new found opponent and landing a solid kick to the man's knee. There was a dull pop, like something being kicked out of place and the man fell with a cry of pain. He growled an obscenity, grabbing Jensen by the front of the shirt and trying to flip him over his head and out of the van. Jensen twisted out of his grasp, bringing his elbow down hard and easily breaking the other man's nose. The man let out a muffled yelp as blood suddenly began gushing from his broken nose. The computer tech managed to wiggle out of his grasp and grab the flash drive from the computer beside him, dropping it into his pocket before the man could regain his composure. However, he'd been so preoccupied with the man in the back, he'd failed to notice the passenger getting out of his seat and reaching into his boot.

There was a sudden, searing pain in his side and Jensen cried out, jerking sideways to knock the knife out of the man's hand. Blood was gushing from the wound in his side, soaking the hem of his pants and staining the denim darker. "Ah..." He gasped, covering the wound with one hand. "Who the hell fights with knives?" He couldn't really ask that, Roque used to fight with knives all the time just because he was a sick bastard and liked to watch people die slowly. He figured this guy was probably the same way.

The knife-weilding man made another lunge for him, slashing across Jensen's chest with another knife he'd drawn from some secret location. There was an explosion of pain as the blade sliced through flesh and fabric at the same time, the cut extending diagonally from his collar bone to his lower ribs. Blood was now gushing over the front of his shirt, hot and thick, and the pain was so intense it was hard to breathe.

Jensen kicked out, knocking the knife-wielder off his feet and into the row of computers behind him. His original opponent appeared behind him suddenly, apparently having regained himself after the blow to the face, and wrapped a thick arm around Jensen's throat. The younger man coughed and gasped, struggling sharply against him. "Dude...really...?" He gasped, shifting his body weight abruptly and slamming the man into the wall of the van, sending all of them tumbling to the side as the van screeched its way around a corner.

One of the computers fell off the table it had been set on and landed on the other man's head, effectively knocking him out for the count. The knife-wielder was still standing (figuratively speaking) though and that was a problem. Actually, the consistent blood loss, the speeding van, and the crazy man trying to gut him like a fish were all wrapped into a the nice category of what Jensen considered to be "the problem."

The knife-weilder lunged at him again with yet another knife (seriously, where was this guy getting all these knives? He and Roque should have been friends...), slashing wildly and aiming for any vital body part he could reach. The blade caught him in the arm, sinking in deeply and causing more blood to join the rest that was doing its best to make Jensen look like a walking crime scene.

The van shifted again, tossing him backwards and the knife-wielder forward. They both toppled toward the open doors, Jensen catching himself on one as it swung closed. He was dragged out of the van, still clinging to the door, his blood making as macabre trail along the pavement that was speeding by beneath him. He was losing his grip, there was too much blood on his hands, and the erratic swinging of the door wasn't exactly helping the situation.

The man with the knives appeared just as the door swung closed again and kicked sharply, catching Jensen in his wounded side. The younger man cried out, gasping in pain as an explosion of agony threatened to engulf him. The man kicked again, this time catching him in the chest, and Jensen lost his grip all together.

The fall seemed to take much longer than it should have; he was only a few feet off the ground after all but it felt like it took forever. He hit the ground on his side, tumbling and rolling as the pavement bit into his skin. His head bounced off the concrete and his vision went blurry for a few seconds (though that could have been attributed to the blood loss as well) and he rolled to a stop, groaning and blinking up at the sky.

Everything hurt; his head hurt, his arm hurt, breathing hurt like a bitch, and the sheer amount of blood covering his shirt and pants was unnerving. He didn't know how deep any of the wounds were but God damn if they didn't bleed like they'd struck an artery. That wasn't true...if there had been an artery damaged he'd be dead by now. Besides, the blood was dark-ish...not that bright red color that happens when you hit an artery...Roque had taught him that. The bastard.

There was a loud screech as the van rounded a corner up ahead and the tires were blown out. It did several flips, landing upside down in a ditch and immediately catching on fire. Someone had hit the fuel tank. _Hah, serves them right,_ Jensen thought drowsily, struggling to push himself to a sitting position. His arms gave out from under him (the one with the stab wound to be more precise) and he fell back heavily, his head bouncing against the concrete again. "Ow..." He muttered though he was pretty sure no one could hear him. That sucked.

"-sen!" There was a voice, far away and distant, yelling his name. At least he thought it was his name. No one else in their group had a "sen" at the end of their name. "-ensen!" , Yep had to be his name. All it was missing was the "J"; poor J, it was always getting left out...

Jesus (that J never got left out), why was it so hard to concentrate? He tried to think about anything other than the pain in his chest and everywhere else. _Hurt Hurt Hurt_, that's all his mind wanted to focus on; negative bastard that it was.

"Jensen!" Something dark suddenly obscured his vision and someone was hovering above him, cradling his face in their hands. "Can you hear me?" The voice asked anxiously, the hands trembling on either side of his face.

Jensen opened his eyes (when had they slipped closed?) and looked up. Cougar. Cougar was above him but there were six of him. Oh wait, his glasses were broken. That made sense. "Hey..." He mumbled, his voice sounding muffled in head. It was like he was talking through a piece of foam.

"Stay still." Cougar told him and he wasn't really sure why the Sniper sounded so worried. Something heavy was suddenly pressing on his chest and side and Jensen winced, gritting his teeth a bit.

"Ah...so mean..." He muttered (at least he thought he said it out loud?). Everything felt hazy, like waking up from a dream, and it was hard to open his eyes.

"Jensen." There was that voice again (J included this time, woot!), anxious and shaking. "Don't close your eyes. Look at me. Jensen, open your eyes."

He wanted to, he thought he had, but it wasn't working (stupid rebellious eyelids). The person (Cougar. Cougar, not person) was shaking him now, begging him to open his eyes. Which was weird because Cougar **did not**beg. Ever. Maybe this was a Cougar doppelganger. A Cougar-ganger. Jensen would have giggled if he had the energy to.

There were other voices now, louder, more demanding, calling him "soldier" and "J" (take that "-ensen"!) but it was too far away. He kept hearing Cougar above all of it, "Jensen look at me. Please, open your eyes!" but he couldn't. He kept them closed and waited for darkness to take him.

**OOOOO**

There was a dull beeping noise above his head and part of his brain automatically linked it to a heart monitor. Shit, that meant hospital, which meant doctors, which meant somewhere along the line, their mission had gone from okay to totally fucked up. He lay still for a second, doing a mental overview of his body. Stitches? Check? Bumps and bruises everywhere? Check. Enough bandages to make him look like a mummy? Double check. He went through the other normal overviews in his head that happened any time he found himself regaining consciousness. Ten fingers and toes? Check. Little Jensen accounted for? Check. I'm not in some underground hospital being kept alive just long enough to supply the enemy with secret Clay-would-kill-me-if-I-ever-told-anyone information? Uhh...?

"Jensen?" There was that voice again, the same one from earlier. It was hesitant and quiet, someone who didn't speak very often but had plenty to say when the time came for it. Cougar.

Jensen opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the brightness of the light over his bed. Jeez, its a hospital, not a dentist office...can we turn the lights down a little?

"Jensen." He turned then, looking at the usually silent Sniper sitting next to him. The older man's eyes were dark, unreadable in the shadows beneath the rim of his hat, but his body language gave him away. He was worried and had been for a long time.

"Hey buddy..." Jensen mumbled, pulling himself up a little and gritting his teeth as the stitches pulled. How many and why? He hadn't gotten that far yet.

"How do you feel?" The question was quiet and simple enough but it was heavy in the silence of the room.

"A little sore (understatement of the year) but okay I guess." Jensen lied; he felt like he'd been run over by a truck. Part of him thought maybe he had.

*Smack*  
"Ow!" Jensen winced and rubbed the side of his head where Cougar had just hit him. "What was that for?"

The Sniper didn't answer, sitting back in his chair and eyeing Jensen carefully beneath the brim of his hat.

"Jeez, Cougs...I've been conscious for a grand total of five minutes and you're already hitting me? Not a very nice way for someone to wake up..." Jensen grumbled, wincing and sitting up a bit straighter.

"You're an idiot." Cougar growled when Jensen looked over at him, bruises and split lip covering his face.

"Wow, someone is grouchy today..." Jensen mumbled in response, gritting his teeth as he sat up a bit more. "Did someone try to take your hat again?"

"Jensen." The word came out much sharper than he meant it to and Jensen stopped abruptly, looking at Cougar. The Sniper sighed, scrubbing at his face with one hand. "Do you have any idea why I'm mad...?" He asked, looking at the hacker carefully.

Jensen was silent for a second (a feat in and of itself) before he nodded slightly. "I know...I'm sorry..." He answered quietly, remembering the events leading up to the hospital bed all to clearly. "But trust me, getting stabbed and thrown out of a car was not part of the plan...shit, had I known there were still guys in the back of that van I never would have-"

"You almost died." Cougar cut him off, his voice soft but sharp. "When I found you I-" He stopped, shaking his head slowly. For the first time, Jensen noticed the dried blood on Cougar's dark jacket, recognizing it as his own. "-and there was blood everywhere." The words brought him out of his reverie and he looked up to meet the Sniper's gaze.

"I'm sorry Cougs..." Jensen muttered quietly, shaking his head a bit. "I know it was a stupid move...really stupid...and painful." He winced as if to add emphasis to his thought process. "It won't happen again..."

The older man was silent for a second, his dark eyes never leaving the blonde's bruised face. Finally, he leaned forward, taking the hand that didn't have an IV sticking out of it, and squeezing gently. "I can't lose you..." He muttered, lowering his head and resting his chin on Jensen's hand. It was a small gesture but one that held more meaning than anyone realized.

"I know..." Jensen said, reaching out with his other hand, ignoring the way the IV pulled against his skin, and resting it on Cougar's arm. "You don't have to worry...you won't lose me." There was nothing more to be said and a warm, comforting silence fell between them.

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**Aww, cuddly Jensen/Cougar moment ^.-**


End file.
